


La Roja: Halloween

by prompt_fills



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Crack, Gen, Halloween, Humor, Shippy Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-27 11:30:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2691296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prompt_fills/pseuds/prompt_fills
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crack!Fic about La Roja spending a night in a hounted house.<br/>Written for <span class="ljuser i-ljuser"></span><a href="http://footballkink2.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://footballkink2.livejournal.com/"><b>footballkink2</b></a>, PP5, <a href="http://footballkink2.livejournal.com/10208.html?thread=5903584#t5903584"> for a prompt asking for anything related to La Roja and Halloween.</a><br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	La Roja: Halloween

Silva stands on his tiptoes to cautiously peer over Iker’s shoulder. “Um. You sure about this?”  
  
Iker eyes the steep slope in front of them. At the very top, an old, ominously dark mansion raises tall against the darkening sky. “Yes,” he says, because someone has to be sure. “Keep moving.”  
  
“But–” Silva starts to protest, so Iker turns around, grabs Silva by his shoulders and starts pushing him up the slope. It earns him a dirty look from Villa but it also makes the rest of their group follow.  
  
A bat flies over their heads. Iker hopes that no one notices but Cesc pops up at his side, eyes wide. “I think–”  
  
“Don’t,” Iker says abruptly because he means _don’t leave, don’t worry, don’t turn away from us now_. But of course the others don’t hear any of that. Ramos is the first to laugh, Torres quick to follow, and soon they’re all cackling. Cesc is flushing scarlet and, more importantly, looking about ready to bolt. Iker grabs his hand and drags him up the rest of the way, only letting go once they reach the front gate.  
  
“Is it supposed to lean so much to the right?” Ramos asks, flashing his phone.  
  
Torres is already posing by the side of the house, looking as if he is supporting a collapsing building. Ramos snaps twenty three pictures before Iker gets to them.  
  
Villa is already pushing against the gate. It opens with a groan. “C’mon guys, let’s get this over with.”  
  
“Do we _really_ have to?” Jordi asks, like they haven’t been over this million times already.  
  
Iker is saved from answering because Villa turns around, still frowning, and snaps: “I thought you were the superstitious one. You should be the first who wants to break that so called curse.”  
  
Jordi pouts and turns to look at Iker but Iker just gives him a helpless shrug and makes the _after you_ gesture, holding the front gate open for Jordi. Jordi goes without any further protests. Despite himself, Villa is often useful.  
  
The house is old and dark, dust everywhere. Iker ushers everybody inside, ticking off the names from his notepad to make sure he’s not missing anyone.  
  


**. . .**

  
  
“Man, that’s so sick,” Ramos exclaims, delighted. He waves at the skeleton that has been tailing them since they entered the house. It waves back, losing a few bones in the process.  
  
They make it to the second great hall before Torres crosses his arms: “You think they’re going to follow us all the way?”  
  
The two of them have one of their annoying silent conversations and then Ramos’s smile fades a little. “Okay. You stand here,” he points at the centre of the room. Torres complies and Ramos swiftly hides behind the hangers by the door. The skeleton soon appears, empty eye sockets facing Torres. It picks up speed – _plop, thud, plop, thud_ – but as it steps over the threshold, Ramos extends his leg, effectively tipping the creature over with an ease that seems almost practised. The bones clatter noisily against the floor. Ramos picks up a few bones and throws them out of the window. Iker would swear Ramos pockets the left shoulder blade.  
  
At Torres questioning eyebrow, Ramos says: “It will give us a couple of minutes.” He grabs his bag from the floor and starts climbing up the stairs. “Let’s find a room. I don’t want to end up rooming with Piqué again.”  
  
“What’s wrong with Piqué?” Torres follows after Ramos. As he passes Iker, he nods at him, calm and friendly. Iker nods back automatically, still floored by the entire scene.  
  
“Dude, he snores.”  
  
“So do you,” Torres shoots back.  
  
“Yeah, but dude, he _snores_ ,” Ramos explains and Iker doesn’t get to hear the rest of their conversation as the voices fade away.  
  
Good knows how long would have Iker stood there, staring incredulously at the top of the stairs where the duo disappeared, if it weren’t for the tale-telling noise from behind his back. Iker hastily steps away as one of the skeleton’s lower lib stamps by. The foot – and bits of the ankle – rattle against the wood, jumping upstairs with a surprising swiftness. Iker shivers and decides it’s time to sort out the rest of the sleeping arrangements.  
  
“I don’t snore,” Piqué says, indignant. Torres and Ramos are long gone and no one else opposes him. Piqué dips his head with a smile and grabs Cesc’s elbow. “So, where are we staying?”  
  
Iker thinks it’s for the best, Piqué towering protectively over Cesc, who has paled even more significantly since the encounter with skeleton. “This way,” he says, leading them to a room at the end of the hall.  
  
Iker returns to the rest of their group to find that Andrés has organized what he calls a spider rescue party and he enslaved a few minions that he armed with tea cups. They are scooping up the poor little furry icky creatures and carrying them outside to _set them free_. Eww.  
  
“Eww,” Iker gurgles, hurriedly stepping out of the way. “Okay, everyone, get yourself sorted. I’ll be taking the corner room on the second floor if anyone needs me.”  
  
“Who are you rooming with?” Villa asks with a frown.  
  
“No one,” Iker squeaks, taking the stairs two at the time. _Spiders. Spiders everywhere!_  
  
Iker is so tired he lies down on his bed and closes his eyes. Just for a moment. He wakes up with a jolt.  
  
 _Plop. Thud. Plop. Thud._  
  
The noise is followed by an obnoxiously loud dull thud and then it’s quiet. Only no, it’s not quiet, there is a knock on Iker’s door. Warily, he opens. It’s Jordi.  
  
“I know you didn’t want us to bother you but I, I...”  
  
Iker pinches the bridge of his nose. “What is it, kid?”  
  
“I have no one to room with and the house is freaking me out and if I have to stay alone for another minute, I’ll go insane!” Jordi exclaims.  
  
Iker opens the door wider and Jordi rushes in.  
  
 _It’s just one night,_ Iker reminds himself. _Just one night and everything will be perfect in the morning._  
  


**. . .**

  
  
Iker is stupid. He’s stupid because he honestly thought that they could just get into their rooms, keep the doors shut, wake up in the morning and ta-daaa! The curse is broken, their play no longer sucks, the strikes strike goals again and his net is no longer magnetic to their opponent’s balls.  
  
So, yes. Stupid.  
  
It’s not even midnight when a ghost, a bloody ghost of all things, appears. Cesc is the first to see him because it’s his panicked shrill that wakes everyone up.  
  
Sleep-deprived and miserable, they meet in the common living room downstairs. Iker looks at them and he has no idea what to tell them. It’s a familiar feeling. He rubs his hand over his face. “Guys,” he begins but stops when he feels the room go _cold_.  
  
Without any sound, the ghost reappears. Villa’s aim is precise as he shoots the damned thing with a rifle.  
  
The ghost puffs out of existence and Iker can hear his frantic heartbeat in the following silence. “Where did you get a rifle?” Iker growls.  
  
“Who cares, how did you know about the rock salt thing?” Torres asks, shaking off the shock.  
  
“I told you he was a werewolf,” Ramos whispers into Torres’ ears, all too loudly.  
  
“What is wrong with being a werewolf?” Cesc asks Piqué quietly and Iker only hears because he is standing close.  
  
Villa is close to them, too. “That’s it,” he snaps. “I’m done with this shit.” He strides to the door, kicking a few stray bones out of his way.  
  
“Wait!” Silva shouts after him but Villa doesn’t stop. Silva springs to his feet and runs after him.  
  
“I’m out of here. Now.” Villa slams the door behind him, leaving Silva standing there, gaping.  
  
Iker places a comforting arm around the small of Silva’s back and guides him back into the living room. Silva makes a pitiful noise and sags into him.  
  
“I’ll go after him,” Xavi says with a sigh.  
  
Jordi’s eyes are wide. “We just need to stay the night, right?”  
  
“Right. Just one night,” Iker assures.  
  


**. . .**

  
  
“I still feel the same,” Ramos says, marching into Iker’s (and Jordi’s) room.  
  
Iker groans and sits up. The sun is up already and so is Torres, obviously, draped all over Ramos and sucking on his neck like a fucking vampire.  
  
Iker groans again and squeezes his eyes shut. “Still madly in love?”  
  
Iker can _hear_ the grin the two exchange and he can definitely hear the smooching that follows.  
  
Jordi makes a gagging noise. “Jesus Christ, how many times have we told you?” He throws a pillow at them.  
  
Ramos gives Torres another loud, smacking kiss and then says: “Get your shit together, we’ll meet you in the kitchen.”  
  
“There better be coffee!”  
  
Iker whimpers.  
  
“It’s okay,” Jordi says. “It’s safe. They’re gone now.”  
  
Iker opens his eyes. “It’s never safe with the two of them around.”  
  
Jordi bites his lip and makes a gesture with his hand. “You really think this helped?”  
  
Iker takes pity on him. After all, someone needs to sound like they know what they’re doing. “Sure thing. Can’t wait for the next practise.”  
  


**. . .**

 


End file.
